The Definition of Time

Chapter 12

i was never disillusioned
about who you were.
i knew you were broken
and possibly incapable of loving
but then again,
i had lost myself
and found that somehow
i could love you
and i thought that all of my love
could somehow make you love me back.
i was never disillusioned
about who you were.
but i still somehow hoped
that i could be the one to fix you.

May 15, 2014

I'm taking a brain walk. Jordan ridicules me for these, but they're my best source of inspiration. I like to walk outside late at night when almost everyone is asleep and all I can see are shadows, stars, and lamplight. I'm trying to brainstorm for a paper I have to write, but my mind keeps returning to Josh, just like it has done ever since we met.

I've thought a lot about him, about how to help him, about what he must be feeling right now. I've texted him, telling him to eat and sleep. I even took him chicken noodle soup a few days ago. What I haven't thought about, or have avoided thinking about, is myself.

In worrying about Josh, I haven't stopped to think about what this means for me. I've been so consumed with sympathy and concern that I've blocked out anything that could give with hope. With Haley gone, Josh is single again. I know he's hurting. I know he's broken, but maybe, just maybe, he will someday be able to see me as more than a friend. I don't know how else to show him I care.

Without even realizing it, I find myself walking up the sidewalk towards the gymnasium where we first met. It seems like so long ago now, but it hasn't even been a year. I walk around the gym, ignoring the sound of rubber sneaker soles squeaking on the basketball court. Behind it, the team-building equipment is shrouded in a beautiful forest where we spent our first few nights during the wilderness trip. There's an old ski hill in the woods where the trees make way for the sky and the stars take over the horizon.

Do you love him? I ask myself. Yes. Yes has been the answer for a long time now. I don't know how I love him--as a friend, as a lover, as a person, but I do. I realized that when scalding chicken noodle soup burnt my hand while climbing three flights of stairs to his dorm room a few nights ago. Now what are you going to do about it? I'm going to do what I always do--nothing. Stay in the background. Stay silent. Stay.

The ski hill appears before me and I pause at the edge of the break of trees when I see a figure sitting on the grass, holding a bottle. I can't see his face, but I know who it is. Josh. I didn't expect to find him here, but I'm really not surprised. He seems most himself in nature.

He doesn't see me until I sit down beside him quietly. He holds a bottle of whiskey in one hand and his eyes are red-rimmed. He glances at me and then looks back up at the stars. I lean back, my head resting in the grass, and I trace the line of the Big Dipper with my eyes.

Eventually, he speaks, his voice low and reverent, "What are you doing up here?"

"I take walks at night a lot. To clear my head."

"You mean to think?" He adds with a smile.

I realize I haven't seen him smile--really smile--in a long time.

"What are you thinking about today?" He asks, turning to look down at me with those eyes that stand out blue against the grays of evening.

You. A beat passes and I gather the words that wish to erupt form my mouth and swallow them. 

"About how screwed up we all are."

He snorts humorlessly, "You've got that right. You, though? You're great at school, have good friends, you love your family. What's screwed up about you? You're perfect."